Won't Have the Nerve to Say No
by lovablegeek
Summary: So take me in from the storm... You won't have the nerve to say no. Total PWP. Warning: Threesome sex. MarkRogerMimi [One shot]


"Me?" Mark stared out across the lot silently for a moment, unsure where this was going.

"I'm here," he said at last, turning the camera inside, to the loft. Too large for one person, and too empty. The sweater of Roger's draped over the back of the couch, and the papers of his scattered over the table only made it seem even more lonely, like they were just waiting for Roger to come back even though he'd really been living with Mimi almost since New Year's.

It wasn't the place Mark was used to, really, because the loft had never been really _empty_ like this – even when he was the only one home, there was still the sense that other people lived here. But not now. Roger would come back, he was sure, but for the moment, it was empty, and lonely, and Mark was not in the least surprised when the last word of his narration slipped out. "Nowhere."

With a sigh, he switched off the camera and set it down on the windowsill, frowned at it for a second and then turned his back and walked halfway across the room, not really going anywhere, just trying to do something to break the silence – the movement of footsteps was almost enough, but not really. He ought to be working on his film, shooting something, but he'd learned that doing so was somewhat difficult when his subject matter had all gone elsewhere, so that plan wouldn't work.

This would be the time for plan B, he decided.

After a minute or two of consideration, he decided that no, as a matter of fact, now would be the time to come up with a plan B.

And after several more minutes of consideration, he decided that the likelihood of that was slim to none, and that he needed to get out of the house and around people before he lost his mind. Or would that be a plan B after all? Soon coming to the conclusion that it didn't particularly matter, he picked up his coat and threw it on, grabbed his keys and shoved them into his pocket, then started to the door, without his camera for the first time since Christmas.

As he bounded down the first flight of stairs, shivering a little – because even with a thick coat on, in the stairwell, the building was always freezing in the middle of February – he glanced to the door of Mimi's apartment, frowning a little. He could grab Roger and Mimi and ask if they wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere, given that he didn't know where he was going just now anyway. On the other hand, it was Valentine's Day. The last thing they probably wanted to do was hang around with him all day long.

But Roger had never been much for holidays – he'd only ever tolerated it before because of April, and Mark couldn't quite see Mimi being much like April in that area... He stopped in front of her door, paused for a second, and rapped on it with his knuckles. The sound echoed a little in the narrow stairwell, and Mark waited quietly. There was no answer. He knocked again, a little harder, waited... Nothing.

Mark turned away at last to head down the stairs. They might not even be home. Where else they would be, he wasn't sure – _Somewhere warm, maybe,_ he thought enviously – but it was a possibility. The door opened behind him, and he heard Roger demand, "Whatever it is, this better be important."

He turned back to face Roger and stopped dead at the sight of his friend standing there in the doorway of Mimi's apartment, reddish-brown hair tousled and messy (more than it usually was), skin pink and flushed, and he looked much warmer than he had any right to be when it was this cold, his skin streaked with sweat. More importantly, he was wearing absolutely nothing. And had obviously been in the middle of something when Mark knocked.

For several seconds, Mark just stared at Roger – at his _face_, damn it, and not any lower than his collarbones, because that seemed a safe area to focus on, all things considered, except that even then he couldn't help but notice things, like the reddened marks on Roger's neck that were bound to turn into very noticeable purple hickeys soon, or the line of sweat streaking down from Roger's temple to his neck, the way he licked his lips, waiting for Mark's answer, tongue sliding over dry, slightly cracked lips...

"Sorry, it was nothing. I'm just gonna go and... um... yeah."

Before he could start to leave, Roger rolled his eyes and said, "You knocked for a reason. What did you want?"

"You know," Mark said slowly, still doing his best to keep his eyes on Roger's face, "I've been living with you for several years, and ordinarily I wouldn't have a problem with you not wearing pants, but under the circumstances I think that I'd rather not have this conversation right now. I'll see you later."

"Hey, Mark?" Roger was leaning against the door frame, something slightly feral and dangerous about the way he stood there, confident and casual. For a moment Mark's eyes traced down his chest, over his hips, admiring the sharp lines of his body, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a long time, more fascinating than frost patterns on the windows or fireworks exploding on New Year's or...

His eyes snapped back up to Roger's face. "Yeah?"

"You want to come in?"

Silence for several seconds. Stretching to almost a minute. Want to... what? Mark's mouth opened. Closed again. "I... uh..."

He expected Roger to say something, interrupt him or somehow make this easier, because Mark knew he certainly wasn't going to come up with a coherent response any time soon. But Roger said nothing, just smirking at him with that far too cocky expression and Mark couldn't decide if it was just because he liked taking Mark off guard and confusing him, or because he already knew Mark's answer.

And he _had_ to know what that expression did to Mark, the way the very slight upward curve of his lips, the flash of his teeth, the slight tilt of his head and the lifted eyebrow and the intensity of his gray-green eyes all conspired to send a chill down his spine and at the same time there was this heat in the pit of his stomach, and all he had to say was one word, simple, and what could it hurt if he said yes?

Mark wanted to say yes. Desperately wanted to, even opened his mouth to say it. What came out, actually, was "Have you fallen on your head?" He bit his lip almost immediately, wincing and regretting the question but he couldn't take it back, and any second Roger was going to shrug and turn away and close the door.

He didn't. He laughed. Roger _laughed_, and his smile broadened in a way that made something in Mark's chest twist, almost uncomfortable but welcome and pleasant at the same time, and that heat in his stomach wasn't going anywhere, was spreading through him to the tips of his fingers, his face suddenly warm.

"You haven't answered my question," Roger said, and that low undertone of amusement made Mark shiver despite himself.

A thousand other questions jumped to the forefront of Mark's mind, anything to distract Roger and sidetrack the conversation and avoid actually _answering_ him. Aren't you _cold_? Or, don't you think maybe you should talk to Mimi? Or, what kind of a lunatic answers the door completely naked? Of course, bringing up the subject of Roger being naked might not be the best way to steer the conversation in another direction, all things considered, particularly not when Mark was doing his best to steer his own thoughts away from that. Maybe he could just repeat the question about head injuries, because that seemed a likely explanation for all of this. Either head injuries, or he was high, or drunk, or...

"Mark," Roger prompted again, his voice low and soft but there was that rough edge to it that made Mark shiver and bite his lips, made his stomach drop and his muscles knot up in a way that needed to be worked out somehow, and _God_, Roger...

"I guess?" he asked, meaning for it to come out casual and nonchalant, but it just sounded nervous and uncertain – which certainly reflected his feelings just then, but Roger didn't have to know that.

Then again, it was Roger, and he probably knew already.

Roger jerked his head to one side, indicating for Mark to come inside, and for a second Mark could only stare at him, unable to breathe because he couldn't _believe_ he had agreed to come in. This was insane and stupid and... crazy... which was the same thing as insane, really, but he couldn't get his brain to work correctly, so he just stepped inside, past Roger. Roger closed the door behind him, and that click of the door gently being pushed shut had an odd air of finality to it that Mark didn't mind at all. He couldn't leave now, he'd already come in and the door was closed and it gave him an excuse, a reason to stay.

"It's... really warm in here," Mark commented, surprised. He turned back to Roger. "Why does Mimi's place have heat when we don't?"

Roger grinned. "Oh, yeah, Collins stole us a space heater."

For a moment distracted, Mark frowned and then said indignantly, "You had a space heater and you didn't _tell_ me?"

"No," Roger answered calmly, and before Mark could ask why, told him cheerfully, "We didn't want to share."

Mark didn't have the chance to get annoyed about that, as Roger crossed the room to meet him, his hands moving up to lightly push Mark's coat off his shoulders, and he smiled a little at Mark's uncertain expression."It's gonna get hot in here. With the heater and everything."

Swallowing back his uncertainty, Mark nodded and let Roger pull off his coat, let it fall to the floor, didn't argue when Roger started to unwind his scarf or when that was dropped on top of his coat, and _certainly_ didn't argue when Roger leaned forward to place a kiss with surprising delicacy on the side of his neck. Mark closed his eyes for a moment, holding his breath with the certainty that this was a dream, that this wasn't really happening and reality would come to hit him in about two point five seconds. Or maybe _he'd_ fallen on his head, not Roger, and this was some sort of hallucination that was the result of a concussion.

Whatever it was, Roger's lips on his neck made his breathing stop and his mind race, his heart jump and he could hear his blood in his ears, almost drowning out the sound of footsteps on the bare floor behind him, in the doorway to what he assumed was Mimi's bedroom. He took no notice of that sound, until Roger lifted his head and took a step back from Mark, smiling over Mark's shoulder at...

Oh, fuck.

Mark turned around quickly to see Mimi standing there in the bedroom doorway, wearing a thin robe and very clearly nothing under that, and he swallowed back excuses and apologies and insistences that he _swore_ he hadn't had anything to do with Roger kissing his neck, he'd just _done_ it and Mark couldn't stop him, because who could ever stop Roger, and...

"Hey, Mimi," he said weakly.

"Hi, Mark." It really wasn't fair that she was so calm and casual, and Roger was... _Roger_, and here Mark was, awkward and uncertain and not entirely sure just what to do with himself right now, but Roger solved that last problem for him. There was the weight of Roger's hands resting on Mark's hips, Rogers lips lightly pressing against the back of his neck and it was all Mark could do to keep from shivering, shooting her a desperate look that was half a plea to control her boyfriend, say _something_, and half something else entirely.

"You know the heater?" Roger murmured without moving. "The one we weren't going to share?"

Mark couldn't manage a coherent response, Roger's mouth just on the nape of his neck, warm breath on his skin and it felt so good, just that small thing, so he could only nod, this time unable to suppress a shiver.

"It's in the bedroom. It'll be warmer in there." And as he said it, his fingers lightly pushed up Mark's shirt, just an inch or so, cold, rough fingertips brushing against Mark's skin, and Mark nodded in response to the unspoken request. Yes, the bedroom would be... good. Because it was warm. Yeah, that was the reason...

He pulled away from Roger lightly, and a little reluctantly, walking slowly across the room, his mind all the while on Roger just behind him, on the feeling of Roger's hands on his skin, Roger's lips on his neck, his breath against his neck, and he wanted more of that, _now_, but...

Mimi was still standing in the doorway, to one side, and he had to pass by her to get into the bedroom. He gave her a quick, somewhat nervous smile. The nervousness faded at the smile she gave him in return, bright as any he had ever seen from her, and somehow comforting. Roger set him off balance, made his head spin, and maybe it was odd that Mimi, of all people, helped to stabilize him, but there it was, nevertheless, and he felt better in the wake of Mimi's smile.

"What'd he say to talk you into this?" Mimi asked softly, genuinely curious, and Mark stopped, his eyes automatically flickering to Roger, and then back to Mimi, her oval face and her coffee-and-cream-colored skin, short brown curls and that smile that seemed to show all her teeth at once, sweet and almost innocent but not quite, warm and playful.

Mark started to answer her, and then realized that he _couldn't_, because he didn't know how to explain that Roger hadn't even really needed to _say_ anything, just be there. Breathe. Exist. Then again, maybe Mimi would understand that after all. But Mark still said nothing, just flushed and shook his head, glancing down quickly.

It _was_ warmer in the bedroom, blessedly so after the chill in the loft that he never could quite seem to get rid of, no matter what the hell they burned, the chill that felt as if it had become a permanent part of him. Now that chill lessened a little, the heat seeping into his bones so that even without his coat and scarf he wasn't cold.

"You realize now that you two aren't allowed to keep the heater to yourselves?" he said with a bit of a smile. "Not while I'm freezing upstairs. You're sharing, or I'm going to have Collins steal it for _me_."

"What, you couldn't steal it yourself?" Mimi asked teasingly, and walked to the bed, sitting down without any effort at grace, and yet the movement came out smooth and feline nevertheless.

She wasn't holding her robe closed anymore, it had fallen open just a little and Mark's eyes automatically ran down the line of bare skin, her chest and stomach, surprisingly pale, or maybe that was just against the dark reds and golds of her robe, and the little patch of dark hair lower down... He caught himself after a moment, and looked away quickly with the feeling that it wasn't _allowed_ to look at her, she was Roger's girlfriend and it wasn't right, no matter what current circumstances and logic told him.

"Not really," Mark mumbled.

Roger's voice behind him again, soft and warm, like a caress. "Fine. I guess we can work something out."

Roger's hands on his waist, Roger pushing his shirt up and pulling it over his head, dropping it at his feet, Roger's lips on the back of his neck once more. Mimi stood up and stepped forward to kiss him, and after a momentary hesitation, Mark returned the kiss, allowing her tongue to slip past his lips, and he closed his eyes, his mind once more reeling back to the thought that this couldn't be real. With his eyes closed, he focused on the feeling of things, of Mimi's lips on his and her small hands running over his chest, down to his stomach, of Roger's hands still firmly on his waist and Roger's mouth still on his neck, trailing soft kisses down to his shoulder, back up to his neck...

Mark drew a sharp breath at the feeling of teeth against his neck, a quick bite, a sharp pain and then Roger's tongue on his skin, and he could almost _feel_ Roger grinning, pleased with himself to get that gasp out of him. Mimi's slender fingers hooked into the waistband of Mark's jeans and tugged him lightly forward, toward the bed. He followed without thinking, allowing her to pull him forward and away from Roger for the moment, and nearly falling on top of her when she reached the bed and fell backwards.

Mark caught himself before actually landing on her, arms braced on either side of her on the bed, and he couldn't help but smile at the situation, the awkwardness of it that nevertheless didn't feel exactly _wrong_ – this felt like being so much younger (or maybe not _that_ much younger, maybe it only felt like it), when everything was an adventure and exciting and something to be explored, even (or maybe especially) sex. Mimi smiled back at him, and lifted her head off the bed, her lips brushing against his. This time Mark didn't hesitate to kiss her back.

He felt the bed shift as Roger sat down, would have turned but Mimi was kissing him, one small, delicate hand on his cheek, the other hand on his waist, fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans, and it had been too damn long since he'd even been kissed, not since Maureen and fuck, he'd missed it, he'd missed touching and kissing and...

Mimi's hand slipped down from his cheek, fingers trailing down his chest and over his stomach, just barely touching. She nipped his lower lip lightly as she pressed her hand against him through his pants; Mark made a soft noise in the back of his throat and pressed into her touch without thinking.

As Mimi unbuttoned his jeans, Roger lightly ran his fingers over Mark's spine. Mark jumped a little at the first touch out of sheer surprise, and Mimi giggled softly, grinning up at him. Mark was fairly certain Roger was laughing too, albeit quietly.

"Shut up," he muttered, and kissed Mimi again – that at least stopped the giggles, and Roger was still running his fingers up and down Mark's spine, and damn it felt good despite the initial surprise of it. Something about that simple touch caused a sudden tightness in Mark's chest, not entirely unpleasant. Mark closed his eyes and suppressed a shiver, not of cold at all, lost in the feeling of Mimi's lips on his, Roger's slightly callused hand sliding over his back and Mimi's softer, smaller hand slipping into his pants, rubbing against him. "Oh, God..."

Roger reached to take Mark's chin in his hand, the other hand on his arm to pull him lightly toward him, and a moment later Mark found Roger's mouth firmly against his, and didn't mind in the least. Roger's tongue ran lightly over his lips, and Mark parted his lips just a little, leaning in toward him, and Mimi's hand was still on him, stroking lightly, teasing, and every time he pressed in to her touch, she pulled her hand away just a little without ever breaking that light, taunting touch. He'd pull away to say something, but the moment he tried, Roger's hand moved to the back of his neck and he pulled Mark closer against him, preventing any speech. Mark settled for a low, frustrated noise, half whimper, half moan.

After a moment or two, Mimi pulled away, and Mark broke off the kiss with Roger long enough to growl a soft protest of "_Mimi_..."

But Roger's mouth was back against his a moment later, his tongue in Mark's mouth, his hand replacing Mimi's on Mark's cock, and Mark decided that's just as good. Out of the corner of his eye, he dimly noted Mimi leaning back against the pillows piled at the head of the bed, warm caramel-colored skin, movement as she slipped her fingers between her legs, but Roger's hand kneading against him provided enough distraction that he couldn't pay too much attention to Mimi at the moment. He drew a breath and arched into the touch, and God, he'd _needed_ that after Mimi's teasing, and maybe Roger's hands were larger and rougher than Mimi's but that was just fine with Mark.

Mark could feel Roger's smirk against his lips when he pressed forward a little, against Roger's hand. He'd call him a bastard for that smirk, but Roger didn't pull his hand away, and Mark didn't quite want to break that kiss again, so he settled for settling his hands on Roger's hips, fingernails digging lightly into the skin. He could be thinking about a thousand different things at that moment, about how Roger was his best friend and you didn't _do_ this with best friends, what if it changed things, and Roger's girlfriend was right there, _watching_ them, and God, this wasn't just stupid, it was _dangerous_, but at the moment Mark's mind was just on Roger's hand and how it wasn't _quite_ enough but it felt so _fucking_ good, stroking his shaft, thumb circling lightly around the head.

He mumbled something, barely coherent, against Roger's lips, not even sure himself what he meant to say, and because he hadn't even bothered to pull back before speaking, it came out something less than words. It was hard to talk with someone else's tongue in his mouth, something he would have guessed but had never tested before. Without removing his hand from Mark's pants or (thank God) stopping what he was doing, Roger pulled back the tiniest fraction to ask in a low, breathy voice, "What?" It was rough-edged and just a little dark, sending a shiver through Mark, but his eyes... Still wild, but _soft_ too. The softness in his eyes didn't quite fit with that voice. It unsettled Mark a little.

He smiled a little, trying to make a joke of it. "Do I want to know why you're so good at this?"

Roger tightened his grip fractionally and leaned in to kiss the side of his neck, and Mark bit back a groan as Roger answered, "I'm a fucking rock star, that's why."

Mimi laughed softly, and it was a beautiful, airy sound; Mark didn't, because he heard the faintest trace of not so distant pain. He _was_ a fucking rock star. Past tense. Was, and now he had only traces of that life left. Mark reached up, took Roger's face in his hands, and kissed him, hard and fierce. Roger, startled, took a moment to return it.

Mark's hand dropped slowly from Roger's cheek, down over his shoulder, his chest, and paused to consider that he'd put on weight and muscle since Mark was last this close to him – but that had been on the floor of their bathroom, Mark holding a shaking Roger in withdrawal. This was infinitely preferable.

He shook the image away and spread his hand flat over the smooth planes of Roger's chest, palm pressing against him to reassure himself it was real. Roger made a soft sound, almost like a growl, in the back of his throat, and nipped at Mark's lip. Mark's hand slid a little lower, over his stomach, to his hipbones, down...

And then Roger jerked backwards, abruptly sitting bolt upright on the bed, Mark blinking up at him. "Roger, what–"

"You can't do that," Roger said bluntly. "If we're going to do this..."

"It's not like I was putting your dick in my mouth," Mark answered. "I just want to touch you."

"But if you have any cuts on your hands or anything, something you didn't notice..."

Mark looked to Mimi, who merely shrugged helplessly, obviously not about to argue with Roger. He looked back to Roger, who watched him with equally hungry and fearful eyes. "I know the drill," he sighed. "I lived with Collins, and I live with you. But fine."

Roger smiled, and then his expression shifted to one Mark had to fight not to laugh at, because he could guess exactly the thought behind it: _But you weren't sleeping with Collins... were you?_ He twisted so he could reach Roger's wrist and pulled him back to kiss him – the kissing, at least, hid the amused smirk.

Reaching down again with his free hand, Roger rubbed against Mark, and Mark shuddered, tightening his grip on Roger's wrist. Mark felt a smirk against his lips, and he bit Roger's lower lip, hard as he dared. He wasn't going to let Roger make this into some kind of game. Not this.

The smirk went away, and without pulling back, Roger opened his eyes briefly, meeting Mark's. Without a word spoken, he seemed to get it. Mark could see the change in his eyes – much as he tried, Roger never could hide anything about his emotions, they spilled over into everything about him, and Mark never failed to notice.

Roger broke the kiss as he pushed Mark onto his back on the bed, his mouth trailing down to Mark's neck, his hands moving to pull his jeans off. Mark lifted his hips to help as Roger tugged them off, and a moment later they went flying carelessly across the room. Roger's fingers traced a line up Mark's thigh, and Mark drew a slow, shaky breath as Roger's hand moved closer and closer to his cock – and then, just before reaching it, skipped over and started to run up the opposite thigh. Mark whined in the back of his throat and twisted upward, prompting only a grin from Roger against his neck, his tongue running over Mark's throat, right where he could feel his pulse pounding much too fast.

And then he moved lower, breath warm against Mark's collarbones. His hand wrapped around Mark as he flicked his tongue over one nipple. Mark gasped and pressed up into the touch. Roger started to work his hand up and down Mark's cock as he shifted down, ghosting down Mark's stomach with kisses and light bites. His free hand gripped Mark's hip, pressing down, thumb running along the sharp angle of the bone.

Mark's brain seemed only to be able to process this in little moments, like some sort of mental stop-motion photography. Roger's lips touched his cock at the exact moment Mimi leaned in to kiss him, her fingers lightly pinching one of his nipples, and for just an instant he stopped being able to process actions altogether, just the feeling of it. And oh God, it felt good.

Roger's hands pinned Mark's hips to the bed as he strained upward, his tongue just playing over the head of Mark's cock, and Mark almost didn't mind, just wanting this feeling to never end... More than that, though, he wanted _more_. He closed his eyes and groaned softly in frustration, the sound swallowed by Mimi's mouth on his. She tweaked his nipple lightly and got a groan of an entirely different sort, his hips still pressing up against Roger's hands.

He felt Roger pull back briefly and whimpered, then let out a breath as Roger's tongue ran from the base of his cock to the head, and a gasping moan as he took it into his mouth. "Roger," he whimpered into Mimi's mouth, while she cupped his cheek with one hand, ran her fingers back and tightened her hand in his hair.

Mark reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair, kissing her as hard as he'd kissed Roger before. As Roger ran his tongue and lips over Mark's cock, cheeks hollowed around him, Mark ran his hands down from Mimi's face to her shoulders, over her breasts and stomach and hips, until finally one hand rested on her side, and the other dipped between her legs. She made a soft sound into his mouth and parted her legs a little more, and he slipped his fingers into her, slick and warm, his thumb pressing lightly against her clit. Mimi pressed her hips down a little, and Mark pushed a little deeper into her, his thumb a little harder against her, and was rewarded by a soft, high moan. He let out a moan of his own, and unconsciously bucked his hips up, as Roger swallowed hard, Mark's cock against the back of his throat.

"Oh God," Mark breathed softly, unable to manage anything more coherent. Roger swallowed again, and Mark shuddered at the heat coiling in his groin, a spring wound almost tight enough to snap. He shifted his hips up, knowing Roger's hands on his hips were probably going to bruise him and not caring, because that felt good too. Not nearly as good as Roger's mouth on him, the way he pulled back just far enough to tease the head with his tongue before swallowing him down again...

He curled his fingers in Mimi, his thumb circling her clit, and she whimpered a little, breathing fast, her fingers tightening painfully in his hair. The pain didn't matter, and he barely noticed it, with Roger, his lips and tongue and the warmth of his mouth around him and... and just a little more, harder and faster and...

Mark closed his eyes and arched upwards, gasping softly as he came and pressing into Roger's mouth. Roger's hands were tighter than ever on his hips, sure to bruise, and he couldn't breathe, and somewhere in the distance he heard a series of sharp cries as Mimi came and took no notice. Everything that wasn't Roger, Roger's mouth, Roger's hands, Roger's skin against his, faded into the background.

He fell back against the bed at last, panting, and gently pulled his slick fingers out of Mimi, who seemed in much the same state as him, from the sound of her fast, deep breaths beside him. And Roger...

Opening his eyes, Mark watched Roger as he pulled back, licking his lips, his gray-green eyes fixed intently on Mark's face. His eyes didn't waver as he reached for his own cock, wrapped his hand around himself and started jerking up, quick and hard. Mark's eyes dropped for a moment to Roger's cock, his hands, but quickly returned to his eyes, captured by the intensity of expression there, and the way he just _watched_ Mark as he lay there, still panting. The emotion Mark couldn't pin down, deep and wild and wanting. The way he only looked away as he came, closing his eyes and tilting his head back and stifling a groan.

When Roger opened his eyes again, Mark was still watching him, mouth slightly open, still breathing hard. He licked his own lips nervously, glancing briefly away, but a moment later his eyes were drawn back to Roger as if by some natural magnetism, unable to stay away for too long. Roger, for a moment, returned his gaze like a wild animal, with that same hungry expression, and then it softened. He shifted across the bed, crawling over to flop with an elegant gracelessness between Mark and Mimi, as breathless as the two of them. His arm fell over Mark, the other over Mimi, as he lay there on his stomach and closed his eyes, looking perfectly at peace.

Mark shifted a little, and pulled out from under his arm. "Um. Should I, maybe–"

Roger preempted the question, cut it off before Mark could even get it out. "Stay here," he said, his eyes still closed. It wasn't exactly a request, more of an order. Mark wondered just when Roger had gotten the authority to give him orders, though he didn't exactly want to say no.

He couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

And Roger opened his eyes now, meeting Mark's eyes levelly. "Because it's warm here," he said simply. His eyes gave a different answer, a deeper meaning than the easy smile on his lips, and that was what made Mark move back to curl beside him, Roger's arm wrapping around him once more, the sound of Mimi's breathing still audible on the other side of Roger. He stayed, because it was warm here, and because he had nowhere better to go, and because he couldn't bring himself to say no to Roger when he looked at him like that. 


End file.
